HalfLife: The Irons
by Jack272
Summary: Just a little something I came up with. The beginning is told in journal entries. Reviews are always appreciated. I do not own Half-Life!
1. Chapter 1

_From the audio diary of Dr. Eli Vance.__ There is__ a slight shuffling noise as Dr. Vance picks up the recorder. _

Test, test. Alright, looks like its working. The date is December 9th, 2014, and I'm recording this in a bunker about twenty miles east of City 17. City 17…God, what a name. It's been about, oh, five years since the Black Mesa Incident, and things couldn't be any worse. In only five years, the Combine have utterly dominated this planet and its people. The only light in my world is Alyx. She's fifteen now, but so clever. She's been known around the bunker for outsmarting some of our best hackers and scientists...

_Dr. Vance can be heard chuckling._

She even made major upgrades to Dog, a little robot I made to protect her from headcrabs. Dog was originally about four feet tall when I built him; since then, Alyx added about three more feet and some incredible AI. And she's still not finished!

_More chuckling._

What a girl, what a girl. Her mother would be so proud of her.

_There is an explosion. Shouting and automatic fire can be heard in the background._

Damn it all! I hate this. I hate this so much. Damn it…God damn it. Its times like these I wish Gordon Freeman was here, fighting beside us. He accomplished so _much_ at Black Mesa, only God knows what he could do here. Where are you, Gordon?

_End of recording._

_From the audio diary of Dr. Eli Vance._

Testing, one, two, three. Alright, let's see here… The date, according to Izzy, is April 17, 2016. Lately, the Resistance has won a remarkable number of battles which have benefited us with even more weapons, ammunition, and supplies. And every one of these victories can be credited to one man: a Dr. Lee Irons. Lee has his PhD in Psychology, but you wouldn't know he's a doctor if you looked at him. He's a tall man, about 6'2, and he has the physical fitness of a Marine. Despite being only 31, he's graying around the temples. Barney says it's because he's an old soul trapped in a young body. To be honest, I agree with him, but this war's made us all old…except for Alyx. Speaking of which, I'm starting to believe she's becoming quite enamored with Dr. Irons. Ah look at me, getting off subject. Well, Dr. Irons has proven to be one of the most valuable men I've met in this war; he's done incredible things on the battlefield. From what he's told me, both his father and his older brother were U.S. Navy Seals, his brother even getting into the Black Ops. Apparently, they taught Lee a thing or two; the man seems to have a natural affinity with weapons. But that's not his true talent. Dr. Irons can turn the tide in a fight, because of his head. He _knows_ Combine, he _knows_ them. He can predict their every move, their every tactic, and he knows just what to say to encourage morale of the people fighting beside him. Hell, the only downside of the guy is that he's a chain-smoker. And maybe he's little cold.

_A door opens, footsteps are heard. __Alyx__ Vance's voice appears._

Dad? What are you doing?

Oh nothing, sweetie, just adding an entry to my diary.

Well, Dr. Kleiner sent me to get you. He was mumbling something about a project for Dr. Irons.

Ok, sweetheart, tell him I'll be there in a minute. Oh, and watch out for Lamarr, I think she's loose again.

_Alyx__ Vance laughs._

I'm sure Barney will be happy to hear that. I'll see you there, ok?

Sure, sweetie, be there in a minute.

_Alyx__ Vance can be heard walking out of the room and shutting the door behind her._

Since Alyx mentioned it, I'll might as well add this in. In the last firefight Lee was in, he was severely wounded: three gunshot wounds and burns and bruises from a grenade. He's been out of action for several weeks. During his time healing, morale took a bit of a drop, and we had more casualties in that time than we've had for the past two years. Lee asked us for this information, and when we told him, he asked us about Gordon's HEV suit he wore during Black Mesa. Dr. Kleiner told him all the details…_all_ the details, and Lee asked us if we could make another. Even though our technology has steadily gotten better and better, we don't have anything that match Gordon's suit toe-to-toe. But Lee said all he really wanted was something that could keep him alive in the thick of a firefight; he said he didn't need any kind of HUD or morphine drip or antitoxin injection, just excellent body armor. Well, we can do that.

_End transmission._

_From the audio diary of Dr. Isaac __Kleiner__ Dr. Isaac __Kleiner__ can be heard._

Lamarr? Lamarr!? Oh where did you get to?

_Dr. Eli Vance and __Alyx__ Vance enter. Dr. Eli Vance speaks._

She get away again, Izzy?

I'm afraid so. I think she may have climbed into the air ducts again.

_Alyx__ Vance laughs._

Don't worry, Doc; I'm sure Barney won't mind climbing in there after her.

_The door opens, sounds of a wheelchair entering can be heard. Dr Isaac __Kleiner__ speaks._

Ah, Lee, I'm happy you came. How are you feeling?

_Dr. Lee Irons speaks._

To be honest, Dr. Kleiner, like I've been shot. And that devil, Dr. Stewart, won't let me smoke.

_Dr. __Kleiner__, Dr. Vance, and __Alyx__ Vance laugh. Dr. Vance speaks._

She's a tough one, alright. But seriously, how are you?

Healing, Eli. Doing my best to speed it along so I can get back out there. How's the suit coming along?

It's actually why we convinced Dr. Stewart to let you out of bed. Alyx, could you open the chamber?

Sure, Dad. You're going to love this, Dr. Irons. I helped build it myself.

_There are footsteps, and then the sound of pressure door opening. Dr. __Kleiner__ speaks._

May I present the Battle-Ready Extreme Environment Suit or the BREEV suit as I like to call it.

_Alyx__ Vance speaks._

I still like 'The Rhino Suit' better. Because of the color.

Ah, yes. Well, the suit contains a number of useful features, if not as many as the HEV suit. Its bullet resistant armor is top notch, taken from the suits of the Combine Elite and further improved on by Eli, Alyx, and myself. It is flame retardant, and can withstand and cushion your body from extreme falls.

_Dr. Lee Irons speaks._

That's just what I was lookin' for, Dr. Kleiner.

Ah, but there's more! You see, we based this model off the original blueprints of the HEV. Because we did not have the materials for an advance morphine system and a nervous system HUD, we had room for a few…other devices.

_Alyx__ Vance speaks._

This is my stuff, Lee. I know you'll like it.

That is correct; Alyx had a major helping hand in this system. We replaced the HUD equipment that decorated the entirety of the suit with a hydraulic system.

It's a smaller, more compact version of the kind I installed on Dog.

This system will enhance your physical strength and running speed vastly, which should increase your own endurance twofold.

_Dr. Lee Irons speaks._

Jesus Christ, that's amazing…

_Dr. Eli Vance speaks._

There's also the power converter, Lee. It's the same model off the HEV suit. Conduct energy from any Combine power outlet, and it'll increase the defense of your suit even more.

_Alxy__ Vance speaks._

And there's a flashlight, an ammo dispenser, and a sheath for your machete. Oh yeah, there's also a pocket on your belt for a cigarette pack.

_There is a momentary silence. Dr. Lee Irons speaks._

I think I'm going to cry…Oh hey, Dr. Kleiner, your recorder is on.

Oh dear, the battery!

_End of recording._

_From the medical diary of Dr. Eleanor Stewart._

Date: December 16th, 2016. After many months of bed rest, I've finally allowed Dr. Irons out of our care facility. Despite his many wounds, which were both internal and external, he has healed up quite nicely and should face no long term physical problems…well, that's not entirely truthful. Before we let Dr. Irons go, I insisted, against his wishes of course, that we run a full screening of his body. Normally we wouldn't do this, but Dr. Irons is a vital member of the Resistance and I wanted to be sure of his health. Unfortunately, we found something terrible. Do to Dr. Irons' extreme smoking habit, he's developed lung cancer…which has gone unnoticed until its later stages. When I gave him the news, he immediately swore me to secrecy, saying that any word of his ill health would affect troop morale. The next thing he asked was how long he had. The Resistance has been kind to the medical facilities here in Black Mesa East; we have many advance technologies and equipment, but despite this, there was literally nothing we could do. I told him six months to a year, longer if we had access to chemo therapy. To my astonishment, he simply nodded and lit a cigarette. I exploded. I yelled at him, I screamed, telling him just how stupid he was being. I asked him why he wasn't appalled, why he didn't quit that damn habit to live a little longer. He looked at me those cool, grey eyes and said, 'I may die tomorrow from a bullet or an explosion, or a year from now from this shit in my lungs. Which do you think I'm more concerned with?'

_Dr. Eleanor Stewart sighs deeply._

I'll always remember that. How can you forget something so unbelievably sad and true at the same time?

_End of recording._

_From the audio diary of __Alyx__ Vance._

Today is July 21, 2017, and I'll always remember it. I actually went out on the field today with Dr. Irons and his team. God, I still can't believe it. I could tell Dad didn't want me to go, but hey, I didn't train with all sorts of firearms and hand-to-hand combat for nothing. I used an MP-7 just because its standard issue, but I had problems with the strap. Dr. Irons noticed and he gave me this fully automatic pistol that I can tuck into my belt. I also got to see Dr. Irons' suit in action, and it worked…amazingly. He seemed to _shrug_ off bullets. I can't believe I'm admitting this, but every time I wasn't looking down the barrel of my gun, I was staring at Lee. He's just…Jesus…he's something else. I also noticed another thing, though; his team, five men, three women, is the most organized I've ever seen. When they move, they don't even talk: all Lee has do to is look at someone, and they provide covering fire, flank a position, throw a grenade, etc.

_There is a shifting sound, as if __Alyx__ Vance is settling in her chair._

But there was something that kinda freaked me out a little bit. While we were escaping from the Combine reinforcements, one of the women tripped and broke her ankle on a rock. I tried to run back to help her up, but Lee grabbed my arm and dragged me back with the group. I yelled at him to let me go, to let me go back and help her, but he just looked at me and said, 'Don't worry about her, Alyx, she knows what to do.' I managed to look back to see two Overwatch soldiers grab her by the arms. I was furious with him when we finally stopped to make camp, but everyone else just sorta stared at me, like there was no reason to worry. That night, around 3am, the woman made it to camp using a stick as a crutch…and she was covered in blood.

_More settling sounds._

When we got back Black Mesa East, I asked around about Lee's team. I managed to find a talkative guy who used to be a part of it before his leg got blown off. He said that every member of 'Team Iron' underwent a sort of mental training, conducted by Dr. Irons himself. Apparently, he hypnotizes them, and programs certain…I don't know…triggers, in their heads. The man I talked to said that if any of them were ever captured, they would activate one of the triggers. I asked him what would happen. That's when he got quiet. But he did say, 'Bad things, honey. Really bad things.' Spooky stuff…

_End of transmission._

_From the audio diary of __Alyx__ Vance._

I saw something both beautiful and haunting today. I was in the base, helping a fellow techy with some computer equipment when one of the men walked inside with a beat-up guitar case. He had found it on the beach while on patrol. Music instruments are a rarity these days, so he drew a crowd when he took it out. He strummed it a few times, but he didn't really know how to play. That's when Dr. Irons walked in.

_There is a momentary silence._

He started to say something, but when he saw the guitar…he stopped dead. His eyes just locked onto it. He walked up to the man and asked him if he could see it. The guy didn't object, it was Dr. Irons after all. He plucked a few strings, then tightened and loosened a couple of the knobs on the neck. He stopped to light a cigarette, then started to play. It was an indescribable experience. I just can't...say what it was like. He said the name of the song was 'Flamenco' and I'll never forget it.

_End of recording_

_From the audio diary of __Alyx__ Vance._

Oh God…No…Oh God, no. He couldn't- He just can't...Why him?

_There is a brief period of sobbing._

He's gone… There was a mission to-

_Alyx__ Vance gasps, and then cries._

There was a mission to rescue a band of refugees that were captured on the river from City 17 to Black Mesa East. We- We found them and killed the Combine holding them, but it was an ambush. They came from _everywhere_: hunter-choppers, gunships, Striders; they wanted him, they wanted Lee dead. He led us out of the river and into this old building. We lost five refugees and two of Lee's team, but it was a miracle the rest of us got that far. He took us to the basement, where there a sewage pipe that led a mile or two down river. He ordered all of us to escape down the tunnel as quickly as we could, but I stayed behind until it was just the two of us.

_Alyx__ Vance breathes deeply and sniffs._

He gave me that damn look of his and told me to go. I asked him what he was going to do. He didn't say anything, but he walked over to the corner of the room and lifted a tarp off of a big container. It was a bomb and- and dozens of grenades, gasoline canisters, rockets…there wasn't any doubt to what it would do to the building. He walked back over to me and put his hands on my shoulders. He told me that the detonator to the bomb was simply too easy to defuse and that someone had to stay to defend it. He told me to be brave and to get the hell out of the fucking building. So…so I did.

_The sound of __Alyx__ Vance pounding her hand against the table._

I heard him fight. I heard all the Combine rifles. There were even some small explosions. But through it all, I heard him laughing. When the bomb went off, the earth shook and a fireball coming from behind me almost took my head off. We looked for him afterwards. We dug through the rubble for about three days, but it was Dog that found it…his suit, almost scorched black. It was still usable though, because we found ammo clips in the belt.

_Alyx__ Vance __sniffs,__ then sighs deeply._

Ninety-nine percent of me knows he's gone. Nothing could have survived that blast. But something in me believes he's alive…you see…his cigarette pack was gone.

_End of recording._


	2. Chapter 2

_"It's time to wake up, Mr. Ironsss."_

_--- _

Light. Lots of fucking light. Jesus, where am I?

Stop. Think. Concentrate. What's your last memory?

The Combine…and the explosion.

No, that can't be it. Think.

There was a man. A man in blue. Time stopped.

Keep going.

He- He talked to me. Offered me…employment?

What'd you say?

…I said yes.

Why?

Because he offered me something for my employment.

And that is?

Life. He'd get rid of my cancer and save me from the explosion.

For your employment?

Yes.

What do you have to do?

I don't know. He didn't say.

Then open your eyes.

---

Dr. Lee Irons opened his eyes to the scene of a dirty room and bright, morning sunshine piercing through the broken windows. He squinted his grey eyes at the offending sunshine and slowly stood up off the dusty floor. The first thing he noticed was the absence of his suit; instead, he wore a pair of work boots, blue jeans, a black shirt, and a grey, heavy-cotton trench coat. He checked the pockets of the strange clothes, and found a pack of cigarettes. The soft-pack was red and white and the word 'Nails' was labeled on the front. Yum. He also found a pack of matches, and used one to light a cigarette. He inhaled the smoke deeply and slowly, savoring the strong tobacco. He checked the room for any tools or weapons with the smoke dangling from the corner of this mouth, but found nothing of use. He took another deep drag, then left the room.

He walked through the halls of a graffiti covered apartment building, long since abandoned by its residents. He blew cigarette smoke through his nostrils as he walked, his eyes darting around, taking in every single detail. He finally reached the door leading to the streets. He tried the knob, but found it locked tight. Lee grunted, then kicked the old wooden door near the bolt. The door shuttered but didn't break. He kicked it repeatedly until the wood finally shattered into splinters. Lee smiled, tossed his burned out cigarette, then let another and walked outside.

---

Where am I?

Look at the buildings, the people.

Multistoried, slightly damaged. Residents are all wearing unisex jumpsuits.

Combine patrols?

Many.

What does that conclude?

One of the Cities.

Is there anything else noticeable? Any other clues to where you are?

Old, rusted out signs in Russian. I can smell salt water. Its faint, but its there.

What does that mean?

Eastern Europe. Close to the Baltic Sea, maybe. But there are many Cities in this region, so that still doesn't-

Dr. Irons' thoughts were interrupted by a loud voice echoing through the dirty streets. It had a calm demeanor, and sounded utterly trustworthy, but Irons recognized it. It was dear old Dr. Breens, the greatest turncoat the world had ever known.

Where are you?

City 17.


	3. Chapter 3

Dr. Irons walked down the streets, looking for an orange Lambda. It had been more than a few years since the doctor had been to City 17, and even though he knew Isaac's lab was safely hidden somewhere in a dark corner of the labyrinth that was this city, he had absolute clue where. So he scanned the walls with his light grey eyes, searching for the most common symbol of the Resistance. He himself had always told his troops that the Lambda meant safety.

The doctor suddenly tensed as he heard the whirl of a scanner approaching. Grimacing, he plopped his still burning cigarette into his mouth. If the scanner picked up any unusual activity, like cigarette smoke, (they were illegal among citizens, and CPs weren't allowed to smoke while on patrol) it would immediately process the information and send it to the nearest Civic Protection headquarters. Dispatchers on duty would receive the information and follow it to any patrols near the area. The whole process took barely minutes. Because even the faintest hint of any open flame could also trigger a scanner's curiosity, the doctor was force to hide the contraband in his mouth.

Lee's eyes watered as the roof of his mouth and tongue were burned before the saliva in his mouth put out the bud. He tried not to show any unusual activity, such as yelping, as the scanner passed lazily over his head. The scanner turned the corner and disappeared behind a building. Irons spat out the now wet and useless coffin-nail on the ground. He muttered several curses and lit another. He took a drag and blew the smoke from his nose as he spit out a few more flakes of tobacco.

God, that was awful.

Then why are you still smoking? If another scanner comes along or, God forbid, a CP patrol comes along, you'd have to do it again.

What are the odds of that happening? Why the hell would a CP unit patrol a street a scanner just passed through?

Maybe that scanner wasn't searching. Maybe it was _leading._

The sound of an ordered progression of footsteps coming from behind him confirmed Irons' thoughts. He could hear the squawk of dispatcher on their radios. Irons had no time to ditch the cigarette. He knew what would happen even before he turned around, the tobacco between his lips burning ever brighter as the sun began to set.

"Hey, stop right there," the head CP barked, his voice robotic through the filters of his gray and white gasmask. He stepped forward and laid a hand on the grip of his baton. Irons blew more smoke through his nose and said nothing.

"You are in illegal possession of contraband. Come with us," he said as he came closer. Irons stood still.

Grunting, the head CP lost his patience and began to draw his baton from its holster. Irons turned his body in an arch as he lashed out with a kick. It connected with the CP's elbow, his arm stretched out in front of his body in order to draw his stun-stick. Irons heard the arm snap, broken at the elbow. Useless. The CP screamed, his voice becoming a horrible roar because of the gasmask. Irons ignored it; he had only seconds to complete move two.

His right hand, fingers folded down so the joints of his pointed forward, darted out and caught the CP in the neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the rest of the patrol begin to draw their firearms from the holsters on the right side of their hips. The doctor took a note of the position of the holsters, then grabbed and spun the now choking CP around and held him against his body. The rest of the Civic Protection patrol hesitated, unsure whether or not to fire upon their superior officer in order to dispatch a dangerous outbreak like Irons. Their hesitation was all the good doctor needed.

Keeping his cold eyes on the CPs, Irons drew his hostage's H&K USP Match pistol from his holster. The CPs saw this, but only one was quick enough to fire. His bullet tore into his officer's helmet as Irons emptied his clip into the patrol. Every shot buried itself into a CP throat, not one missing. Irons dropped the body and searched the patrol for more clips; he also took a couple of stun-batons as well. The cigarette in the corner of his mouth finally burned to the filter, and Irons flicked it at the corpse of the head CP. It flew gracefully into the bullet-hole of his helmet.

"Two points," he muttered to himself.


End file.
